


Gotta Get Back to Watford

by MaryVariations



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, No Wayward Son Spoilers, Stupid terrible boyfriends, They're still idiots and cant figure each other out, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-12-22 15:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21079016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryVariations/pseuds/MaryVariations
Summary: With Watford and the World of Mages in tatters after Christmas holiday, the gang must return to Watford to finish their final term. Can Baz and Penny get Simon over the line to graduation? Who will step up as the new Mage? And how will that familiar tower room change now that Simon and Baz have finally crossed the chasm?Starts from the end of Carry On. Happy Ending.





	1. Chapter 1

** Simon **

I put my hand on the Humdrum and just _push_. I push everything that I have into him until I start to feel him pull. And then the magic is being sucked out of me like a hull being breached in a ship. It is coming out faster and faster until I’ve suddenly lost control. I never understood what people meant when they told you to save your magic; I never understood what it meant to feel you are about to reach empty.

It feels like a shadow is creeping over me, into me.

A mundanity that creeps into my very soul. 

A dead spot growing inside my chest.

I realize that the Humdrum is going to take it all, and I don’t fight him. I was never meant to be a Mage. It just makes more sense this way- the Normal who slipped through the cracks and into the magic world. I wonder if they’ll **_doesn’t ring a bell_** me dumb after this is all over.

For the first time since coming to Watford, I’m properly scared. No more mission, no more monsters to fight, just a scared boy. A scared boy with a red ball. I feel the wings retreat back into my shoulders and the tail melt away. I wonder if I will look like the Humdrum when this is all over. If I will go back to the me I was before magic. I can’t open my eyes to check, but I feel it all melt away. 

I’m nearing the end of my magic.

I brace myself.

And then it stops.

** Penelope**

Simon collapses as soon as the Humdrum disappears. The way the Humdrum smiled when he left, like someone finally allowed to return home from a long exile. I don’t know what Simon has done but I can feel that he has succeeded. 

I sprint to Simon and pull him up into my arms. He looks crumpled and tattered. I worry at first that he is dead but I feel the heat of his skin and see the rise and fall of his chest. You’re going to be all right Simon. You’ve done it. It’s over. And you can’t give up yet.

** Simon **

When I open my eyes the Humdrum is gone. I’m lying on the ground with my head in Penny’s lap. My wings and tail have vanished and my power has too. There’s no more wildfire raging through me, no more pulsing electricity, no furious storm.

But there’s something else. Something like a simmer, a low flickering heat.

It starts to spread down my limbs, filling my veins with gentle heat.

“Oh” I say in a whisper. “So this is what magic is meant to feel like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously much more to come...


	2. Chapter 2

** Simon **

Watford opened as normal after Christmas break. It was slightly strange that the school didn’t feel the need to take some time off. Between the “disappearance” of the Mage and the battles for control between the Pitches and the Mage’s supporters, you’d think they’d at least give us a long weekend. But here I am, returning back through the gates like every other January after break. Except this doesn’t feel like any other January.

Everyone is looking at me. But that isn’t really a change. Being the Mage’s heir always came with some level of spotlight. And I suppose spending every other week running through the courtyard with my sword blazing, beating back whatever new challenge the Humdrum sent didn’t exactly make me blend in.

But now there’s no more Humdrum to beat back. There have been no more incidents with the Humdrum since Christmas and I don’t reckon there will be. Whatever extra magic was put in me, the Humdrum took it back.

And now I have to learn to manage with the same amount of magic as everyone else. That part doesn’t feel like much of a change either. You’d think it would, but I never really liked casting. I don’t see how casting with a warm broth of magic in my chest will be any easier than with an over-boiling cauldron. I’ve always preferred to use my sword anyway, and that still summons just as easily.

The buildings are the same, the people are the same, but everything else has shifted. Agatha is missing, the Mage is gone, Ebb is gone.

But Penny is by my side.

And Baz.

I suppose that is different. Baz is here and we aren’t fighting. I look over at him and smile.

** Baz **

Only Snow could look that normal at a time like this. The bloody roof of the White Chapel is missing for Merlin’s sake (Snow’s magic apparently could not be undone with any known spell and the grounds crew are having to rebuild the hall stone by stone).

And yet here is Snow, face turned up in contentment and eyes closed against the wind, probably trying to catch the scent of whatever’s for lunch today. He’s walking that same patented shuffle like he’s just popping over to the dining hall for breakfast, not returning to the site of the most important battle the World of Mages has ever seen.

Also, everyone is staring. Sure people stared before, what between my dashing good looks and the unignorable presence of Snow’s suffocating magic- like a bloody forest fire ripping through campus with every step. Of course now they might be staring because of the lack of presence. Snow without the smoke- it is almost more alarming than him with it.

There’s also the matter of the hole he ripped through the center of the campus and the preposterous rumors of all the ways in which he supposedly defeated the Humdrum (seriously, how is one meant to defeat anything with a deck of playing cards. Only Normals think that’s real magic.)

Or maybe they’re staring because the two of us are holding hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Simon**

As I walk up the stairs to Mummers house, I realize that I only have a semester left until I am meant to leave Watford and join the World of Mages and I’m only now realizing that I never actually planned this far. Penny has known what she was going to be doing after graduation since she found out about magic (which I suppose would be birth) but I always just assumed that I would follow the Mage to the next battle and the next until something finally got me. Now that there’s no next battle, I’m not really sure what’s expected of me.

I’m not even sure if I can proper do magic. I know I can summon my sword but outside of that, I haven’t exactly been eager to try anything else. Penny thinks it’s because I’m scared that I’ll run out of the magic that I have left. I go along but it’s not that. It’s that the magic that I have doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes or sleeping in someone else’s house. Sure, it fits and it's comfortable enough but it’s always going to be slightly off.

Magic has been the only thing I have is truly mine. In the foster homes, I was always living in someone else’s world. But this school, my uniform, my magic, they were _mine_. And now someone else’s magic is flowing through my veins and I’m leaving Watford at the end of the term. I don’t like thinking about it so instead I count the stairs in my head on the way up to the tower.

The door to my room comes as an almost shock as I get lost in the hypnotism of my counting. I reach for the handle and then pause for a brief moment like I always do. I feel that old flutter of panic in my chest as I reflexively wonder if Baz will be in the room.

If you added up all the paused moments that I’ve spent outside of this door, I probably would have an extra semester at Watford. And then I remember that Baz won’t be inside the room, reading books whose titles I can’t understand. He isn’t in the catacombs or plotting with Dev and Niall, he’s standing right behind me.

I can feel his breath on the back of my head and I realize how much time I truly wasted at Watford. It’s like all the times I’ve walked through this door have been practice runs, they’ve meant nothing, but this time we are finally doing it right. I always thought of Watford, of this room, as my true home but I didn’t really know what that meant until now.

**Baz**

Snow is hovering in front of the door like he’s just forgotten how to turn the handle. Some terrible instinct in me tells me I should take the chance to make a jab at him. I open my mouth but then close it again. To be honest, I’m still breathless, still breathless from the reality of just walking across the campus together like it’s something we’ve always done. It was like emerging into the sunlight after a night in the catacombs, emerging into a world somehow right next to yours and yet complexly different. Blindingly different and magnificent and warm, and you wonder how on earth you could have called that last world living when this was right within your reach. Wondering how long you can stay in this world until the sun starts to burn.

I know I’m going to bungle this somehow, I just don’t know how. There is no world in which the universe allows me to be this stupidly happy.

He's still lingering by the door. Oh screw it, I'm just gonna say something.

**Simon**

“Do you need me to carry you across the foyer?” Baz chimes in from behind me. "It's a little antiquated but I can be an old fashioned guy."

I turn around and he’s smirking up at me from the step below. I’ll never quite get used to that smirk. I grab his hand and we walk into our room. I throw my bag on my bed and stand back in the doorway, scanning my eyes over the room. It is so strange to think of all the time that was wasted in this room, obsessing over Baz, wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking, how he was plotting to destroy me.

He looks over to me and smiles. Not a smirk, not a cheeky grin, just a smile and I laugh because I realize that one smile is all it would have taken to destroy me. If only in he could have realized that too, years ago. Then we wouldn’t have spent years torturing each other, he wouldn’t have had to push me down the stairs, and we all could have avoided the incident with the Chimera.

I continue to stare because I know that I can. Because for once in this room I don’t have to spend one third of my mental energy choreographing where my eyes go and I can let them settle on the one person who they always want to be looking at.

That’s enough to bring anyone to their knees. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Baz**

There was a time when I would have done anything to avoid this room, when its walls were so suffocatingly packed with the presence of Simon Snow, I felt like I’d choke. It still overwhelms me now. I scan my eyes around the room, taking it all in, and try to ignore the fact that Snow is currently staring at me from beside his desk. I mean _staring_. If this were two months ago, there would be smoke fuming off of him, it’s that intense. But it’s not the same stare of anger and frustration. In fact, the way his eyelids slightly droop as he looks at me, it just might be an entirely different kind of frustration.

“Merlin, Snow, don’t drool on the carpet. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to stare?”

His face and neck both immediately go bright red and he turns away. It’s good to know that I can still make him bluster. Problem is, I didn’t actually want him to stop. I just can’t help but say whatever snide comment first pops into my head. It’s a condition and it’s probably terminal since now that Snow doesn’t want the joy of killing me, it’s really anyone’s grab and I’ve managed to piss off a lot of magical beings with my brilliant wit. 

Now Snow is fiddling with the books on his desk and refuses to even look in my direction.

Three cheers for Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch: professional moment-ruiner.

In an effort to redeem myself, I walk slowly over to him and cup my hand on his cheek. He’s still just as warm as he was before the Humdrum. Even without the magic, he’s so full of life, I can hardly stand it. I trace my index finger along the curve of his jaw and then tip his chin up towards me. Staring him down, I hold him there until he flinches his chin towards me.

I win.

I pull him into a deep kiss. He wraps his hands around my waist and I start to lean in further. I’m getting drunk on it and my head is already spinning when suddenly the door swings open with a crash.

...

I begrudgingly remove my lips from his and brace myself for the now unfortunately ever-present Penelope Bunce. These past years should have warned me that dating Simon Snow by definition means semi-dating his better half. She even come to our first date.. Though, in her defense, Simon hadn’t exactly realized what I was asking.

Though, also, not in her defense, it wasn’t as if she volunteered to leave after she realized.

I had spent almost two full hours getting my hair to that exact I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-with-this-perfect-coif-look, knowing that when we got back to school and shared the same bathroom, I wouldn’t be able to put on airs of casual perfection. Even as dense as Snow can be, I’m pretty sure he would notice if I started spending two hours with a blow-dryer every morning. Simon truly looked like he had just rolled out of bed, same jeans and some horrible sweater – he really does not know how to dress himself outside of the Watford uniform (we will have to work on it after graduation)-- and yet the beautiful idiot still looked more radiant than anyone has any right to be. 

…And then there was Bunce sitting right next to him, nose in a book, ready to tag along on this adventure as well.

I make a show of pulling away from Snow. I don’t even let go of his hand as I turn to tell her off. I let out an exaggerated sigh and my mouth has already started forming the words as I turn to face the door and come face to face with two figures instead of one. 

Frozen in the doorway, eyes wide in shock, Niall and Dev are staring at me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Baz**

They only hesitate for a brief moment before they stroll into the room as if Simon weren’t even there-- let alone still holding my hand. Bless him, Simon is so red he almost looks like a Fire Troll (they are much more handsome than you would expect). You can actually see the gears turning in Simon's head as he tries to figure out what to do next. I gently pull my hand from his and turn to Niall and Dev.

Dev is no longer looking at us. He has slowly walked over to my side of the room and picked the football off from my shelf. Niall is settling himself into a causal perch on my desk, picking at invisible dirt under his middle fingernail with his thumb. Both of them make a point not to walk on Simon's side of the room. Dev is now tossing the football from one hand to another looking utterly bored. Good men. They could have walked in on me draining the entire first year class and wouldn’t have said a thing. 

Simon starts blustering-- apparently his brain has finally caught up to the rest of us. He’s forming half words and then abandoning them. “We-um-if-bu-not-what-”

Crowley, Snow.

I cut in before he fully combusts. “Hey boys. To what do I owe the visit?”

**Simon**

Baz is so calm, I don’t fully understand what is happening. Niall and Dev are acting like I’m not even standing here- not that they usually acknowledge my presence, aside from the periodic sneer or lip curl. But this time they have to notice me. I mean, Baz and I were just snogging in front of them! We were snogging, right? The way the three of them are acting, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been having some kind of advanced hallucination. Wouldn't that be just my luck...

Dev doesn't look away from the football he's been tossing to himself as he finally speaks up. “Sorry for the sudden intrusion, mate. We were just wandering near the lounge and we overheard Professor Dalton tell Posibelf that he's planning a pop quiz in Ancient Runes tomorrow. Thought you might like the heads up” 

As he says this, his eyes wander to me briefly and his lip twitches like he’s bothered he’s had to share this information with me. He exchanges a quick look with Niall and then turns back to Baz.

“Just like Dalton to plan a quiz on the first day back from holiday. Anyway, while we were down there we were able to pick up the” he looks over at me briefly “_ingredients _for our plan next Tuesday. Do you think we’ll see be needing them?”

Baz smirks. “No, I don’t think I’ll need those after all.”

“Alright, then” Niall says as he hops off Baz’s desk. “Good luck with the test.” Dev hands the football to Baz and he and Niall both walk out of the room. I stare at them both dumbfoundedly as the door closes.

From behind me I hear the sharp exhale of Baz laughing to himself. “What on earth just happened,” I sputter.

“Niall and Dev wanted to know if I still wanted to try to feed you to the Merwolves,” he says.

“What?!”

“Well they obviously saw us snogging” (So I didn’t hallucinate it!) “They probably heard from some random second year that we were holding hands in the courtyard and came over here to see for themselves.”

“But-wait-so-wait. 'Ingredients' was code for throwing me in the moat?? Merlin, Baz, come on!”

“We planned it before Christmas! How was I meant to know you were going to stalk me home and beg me to be your boyfriend? Even I'm not that good at Divination. And anyway, it was technically code for picking up the Merewolf scales to trick you into going into the moat yourself." He shrugs. "A bit of a childish plan but I have to let them take the lead at least sometimes.”

“And you told them not to?” I say in horror. 

“Of course. They're both proper pissed about it too”

“What the _fuck_ Baz. Ok… so then the thing about the test? What was that code for?”

“Nothing, Professor Dalton is just a prick.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Simon**

When I come downstairs for breakfast, Penelope is already buzzing. She has two textbooks and a semesters worth of notes spread across the table. “Agatha just told me that we are having a pop quiz in Ancient Runes,” she says, already speaking before I’ve reached the table. She hasn’t looked up yet and for a moment I wonder how she always knows it’s me. Maybe she has some kind of spell for it or maybe she just starts speaking whenever anyone walks by. Now that I'm thinking about it, it’s definitely the second one. She wouldn’t be even slightly fazed by freaking out a couple random students if it means she doesn’t have to look up from whatever she’s reading.

“Here,” she says shoving a particularly large stack of parchment in my direction. “You should review Northern Germanic runes. They’re sure to come up after Dalton’s last class.”

“Oh, yeah” I say, still picking some sleep out of my eye. “Niall and Dev mentioned that last night. I don’t know why you’re getting worked up about it, though. You’ve been top of the class at Runes since Second Year and it’s one of the few classes I’m decent at.” I start pouring my tea and only look up when I feel Penny’s eyes bearing into me. I don’t know how she can hold her face so still, it’s kind of freaking me out.

“What?

“Niall and Dev told you??”

“Well technically they told Baz.”

“And you didn’t think to pass this information along?” She stared at me expectantly. “I wouldn’t expect Baz to share, he’s always been bitter about being second in class in Runes… Can you believe he actually blames his class rank on the incident with the seeker’s stone? But anyway, just because you guys are snogging doesn’t mean… I mean, who’s side are you on anyway, Simon?”

“I didn’t know there were sides!” I jokingly yell, slightly choking on my scone as Penelope gives me a shove. I sometimes forget how competitive she can get about her class ranking. “Honestly! I just forgot!” She’s still staring. “I already knew I was going to fail and I was a little more preoccupied with the fact that Niall was going to feed me to the merwolves and that Dev saw me and Baz snogging in our room. After that, the night just kinda got away from me.”

“You’re not going to fail it, Simon. You’re good at Runes; you just have to focus. Here, review these” she says as she pushes the stack of parchment closer to me. “And I’ll… actually, no. I’m going to have a word with Baz. If he thinks he get to the top of the class by withholding information from me or worse using this new relationship to get you to withhold information from me, he’s got another thing coming.”

“Are we not going to talk about the merwolf thing, then?” I sort of half-heartedly yell as she stomps off to the other end of the dining hall. Baz has just slipped into his normal table with Niall and Dev and she is walking straight towards them- she's on the warpath. I wonder if I somehow messed up by mentioning the Baz thing. Did I sell him out? Shoot, maybe there are sides. I don’t know why I thought that I could continue on like normal and just add Baz and I into the equation.

He’s leaning back in his chair absentmindedly running his finger around a water glass as Penny is standing over him waving her hands dramatically and getting herself into a proper huff. He looks so cool with his hair pushed back. It’s still slightly wet. He must have taken a shower after I left this morning. I wonder if he wore the towel into the room rather than changing in the bathroom since I wasn’t there. I wonder if he will stop changing in the bathroom now. I wish I had stayed back today to see.

Wait, shit. Was I supposed to stay back? Are we supposed to come down together now? I was so caught up in my morning routine that I didn’t even think to wait for him. I used to meet Agatha outside the dining hall when we were first dating. Are we supposed to walk places together now? I glance over and see that Penny is finally starting to wear herself down towards a conclusion. Niall, Dev, and Baz are barely listening as they eye each other over the table. Wait, am I supposed to sit with them now too?

Thankfully, Penny is almost back to our table. “Anyway...” she starts as if she has not just caused a spectacular scene. “You really will want to review page 637.”

I look over to Baz and smile apologetically. He smiles back and my heart does a little leap.

I pull the stack of parchment towards me and start reviewing. Five minutes later, Baz comes up to the table. He leans slightly on the edge between me and Penny like he's leaning on the hood of a car in a 1980's rom com. “A peace offering” he says softly as he bends down towards Penny and slides a piece of parchment over the textbook she’s reviewing. “This should be more helpful then anything you have there,” he gestures vaguely to the table full of notes.

As he stands up, he sort of winks at me as he pulls a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well anyway, they called a last minute morning practice so I’ll be off. Good luck with the _cramming_, you two.” He puts extra emphasis on “cramming” and something in his comment sounds like a threat or an insult, I’m not quite sure which. But at least this is a side of Baz that I am used to. Nothing like the smile he gives me as he looks back over his shoulder as he walks away, like he knew I would be watching him go (who wouldn't?).

“What did he give to you?” I say, still in a daze turning back to Penny.

“His notes from Dalton’s last lecture, the twat” says Penny, either missing or deliberately ignoring the way that all my blood has rushed to my face. “What does he think he’s suggesting? In what world does Basilton Grimm-Pitch take better notes than I do?" She huffs. "The handwriting certainly is pretty, though.. Do you think he took handwriting classes when he was young?”

“He definitely did” I say with a laugh. “But there is no way anyone takes better notes than you. You have the best notes in the class, wouldn’t have made it to Seventh Year without them.”

Penny gives a self-satisfied smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Baz **

Football practice runs long. I have to almost sprint to ensure that I get to Runes on time and yet I am still the last person into the lesson. Everyone is already in their seats when I arrive, which means they all turn to look at me as I swing open the door. I had made sure that I was breathing normally before I walked up to the classroom. As I closed the door behind me, I put on my best superior smirk and make a point to walk slowly into the classroom, really milking the moment. Niall and Dev have saved a chair for me near the front. As I walk up the aisle, my wing tip shoes echo loudly against the stone floor, keeping everyone’s eyes on me.

Professor Dalton clears his throat loudly as I settle into my seat. “Now that everyone is present and accounted for, I trust that you all had a fine Christmas break.” I shoot a quick apologetic look to professor Dalton to make sure I hadn’t been laying it on too thick, taking care that no one else sees. “Now if everyone will close their books and take out a fresh sheet of parchment, we are going to see how much you each managed to retain over what I’m sure was a thrilling Christmas break.” He looks at Simon as he says this, no doubt referring to the meteor-sized hole he managed to rip through campus during the battle. “We are back now, students, and finals are closer than you think. Let’s get to work”

The quiz is easy, more of a tool for Dalton to demonstrate his power over us than an actual test. Snow is still heads down in his parchment as I am packing up (long after time has been called, I may add. I don’t know how he gets away with it). But I am going to be late to Potions if I wait for him to finish so I collect my books and make my way out of the classroom.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I have back to back lessons followed by the first match of the term, which of course goes into extra time. By the time I’ve showered and left the pitch, it’s well after dark. I didn’t look into the stands as I was playing, though I realize now I should have. It had felt good to run and move and throw myself entirely into something I could control. I had let myself get lost in the movement of my legs, the feeling of my feet connecting with grass and ball. If Simon was spectating, I didn’t see him and he wasn’t waiting for me when I got out.

It’s all the same, I pushed myself too hard in the match and I can feel my fangs pressing at my gums, begging to be let out. I make quick excuses to the rest of the team and start my way up the back path towards the dining hall, taking the stone steps down towards the kitchens rather than following the late trickle of students towards the main hall. I walk down the path the back of the kitchens where the deliveries come in. There is a small door that the staff usually uses to come and go for their breaks. Students hardly ever come down this way. I rap my knuckles three times on the old wood. 

The kitchen staff are used to me and make quick work of mustering up some sandwiches, an apple, and a Victoria sponge in a paper sack. They’ve known me since I was a baby. I think many of them are still loyal to my family. When my mother was in charge, she was good to the staff. She was always generous around the holidays and she made a point to remember everyone's families and birthdays. I don't think the mage even knew that anyone worked down here. Still, I try not to come to the kitchens too often. They look at me with almost sadness in their eyes. I sense they probably see just enough of my mother in me to remind them of how unlike her I’ll ever be. It’s the same sadness with which many regard me.

I bring the food down to the catacombs and each with more haste than I would like, practically inhaling the food. Afterwards, I take my time as I hunt. My legs still ache from the match and I’m slow and lethargic, weighed down by the soreness and the sponge.

***

When I finally arrive back in the room, Snow is already asleep. I quietly grab my pajamas and tiptoe into the bathroom to change. I run some water across my face and through my hair. The satin and the clean water feel nice against my skin and I start to finally feel myself relax. I slip into the familiar bed and turn to look at Snow in the darkness. Even without the extra magic, he still seems to be radiating light. I trace my eyes over the patterns of moles on his face and neck and a smile stretches across my entire face. How many nights had I lain awake in this same bed, same moon shining through the window, same brilliant, beautiful boy in front of me? How many times had I wondered what it would be like to trace my fingertips along his lips, to kiss the constellations of moles on his neck, to run my fingers through his golden curls? But now it was real. There was no more of Simon to explore.

I lie awake for a long time watching Snow. I wish I had had more of him today. We’re back to living less that a meter away from one another but he still feels far. I watch his breath rise and fall, shakily, mouth turned slightly down. I’m drinking in every second, mentally sending the moment to my past self, memorizing his face against that same pillow over again, this time with the knowledge that he is mine.

I would die before I told Snow the truth of how many hours of my life I have spent memorizing his face in that bed. I have let years of my life slip by, enthralled by the way the moon catches in his eyelashes and falls down his face. I’m still doing it now, just as pathetic as ever. I breathe in softly and I let something inside of me go. I allow myself to dream every dream I never dared to all those nights before. They come rushing in all at once and for once, the possibilities of our future seem almost endless. My family and their expectations for me seem as far away as the stars in the sky. I would cross every line for this boy and now that we’ve started, there’s no turning back. Not now, not for me.

** Simon **

At around 3AM, I wake up to the heat of the night. Baz wasn’t back yet when I finally passed out. I tried to stay awake as long as I could. We barely spoke at breakfast and every time I saw him since, he was busy walking somewhere with purpose, eyes down on his feet or a buried in a book. I couldn’t seem to catch his eye in the match today either. He was completely frenzied, almost a little scary. I haven’t seen him like that in years (well, outside of his fights with me, I mean). It felt strange. I had thought maybe I was the only one who got to see him like that anymore. I hoped to catch him when I got back but before I knew it, my pillow was pulling me into the realm of sleep.

As I was drifting off, I realized that I should probably close the bedroom window. At that point it was well past midnight and I knew Baz would be exhausted by the time he got back. We were only back for one day and he already seemed different. He could probably use one night without having to fight with me about the bloody window. I lazily crawled out of bed and pulled the hinge shut, eyes half closed, and then climbed back into bed. After a few seconds, my blankets already felt to heavy and humid. I had thought that maybe without the extra magic, I wouldn’t have all this extra heat but it wasn’t going away. It had been easier over break when Baz and I were sharing a bed. He’s so cool to the touch, it makes everything more bearable.

But anyway, now, a couple hours later, I feel like I am trying to sleep inside a furnace. I can feel the heat rolling over my skin and I have to step out of bed to get away from the sweltering blankets. I fill up a glass of water in the sink and look back at Baz in the other bed. His hair has grown over the last few weeks and it pools around his face, framing him in cool, black and welcoming curls. I want to brush one strand that has fallen across his cheek away from his face. Suddenly determined, I quietly place the water glass on my desk and move everything between our beds out of the way, being sure to make as little noise as possible. When the area is cleared, I squat down and lean my back against the side of my bed to slide it over towards his. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without him by my side.

**Baz**

I wake up to a rough scratching on the wood floor. Snow has his back to me and is using his full body weight to push his bed across the ground. The bed is creaking and groaning and for Crowley’s sake, Snow, does it ever cross your mind to use a spell? A long list of levitating and silencing spells rise to the top of my mind. His face is getting flushed and huffy and he looks like he does when he can’t get a spell to work the way that it is supposed to during a class demonstration. I don’t want him to see me watching so I close my eyes and let him move his bed against mine, turning slightly to face away from him towards the opposite wall.

As he clumsily wiggles himself across the new bed that he has made, a small smile stretches across my face. He’s moving carefully, trying his best not to wake me and I decide to play along. I feel him pause as he gets within a few centimeters of my back. He’s half lying down, his body propped up on one elbow, his other arm hovering just above my hip, unsure. I feel the space between us like electric static. My whole body is practically buzzing with it as he tries to decide what to do. Finally, he carefully lowers himself down and drapes his arm across my chest. I inhale softly and then use the momentum to lean deeper into him. He still smells like smoke and mahogany but there has been another smell to him recently, something like a campfire- inviting, innocent, and safe. I fall asleep within seconds.


	8. Chapter 8

**Simon**

I wake up to the sun already beginning to shine through the closed curtains. The alarm didn’t go off, which means I must have woken up at some point and turned it off. I had been deep in a dream and it’s a slog to claw myself back up to reality. The dream fights to stay with me, something about dragons and nursery rhymes. As it begins to slip away, one last fleeting image remains, a woman in a long white dress, blonde hair tied in a loose braid, stray strands flying in the wind. She had looked to me to say something, I can't quite remember what. But I think she may have been crying. Baz is still soundly asleep with his head rested in the crook of my arm. I begrudgingly and carefully slide my arm back towards me until his head rests on my wrist. As I do, his hair grazes across my arm. It's soft. You would think his hair, long as it is, would get greasy but it never seems to. I don’t remember hearing him take a shower last night. I lean over Baz and check the time on his watch. It’s still pretty early, Baz’s alarm will probably go off within the next few minutes.

He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, I lean down and give him a light kiss on the cheek. His eyes slowly open and meet mine, hovering above him. He smiles.

“We keep missing each other,” I say.

He makes a large, somewhat exaggerated, stretch. “I’m right here,” he replies with a yawn.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbles as he rolls over into his pillow. I watch as he scrunches his face to try to block out the thin rays of sunlight.

“I can feel you staring,” he laughs after a few moments. Still facing away from me, he glances down at his watch and sighs. “Listen, it’s late and I know you like to get to the dining hall when the scones are still warm.” I don’t think I’ve ever actually told him that. He rolls back to face me and lightly puts his hand on top of mine. “Go down and get some breakfast. We both have a break after second period – I’ll wait for you outside your classroom.” I hesitate for a moment. I don’t really want to get out of bed but he is right, I am already starting to worry that all the good food will be gone. Finally and only barely resolved, I give him a kiss on the cheek, squeeze his hand, and rush to the bathroom to get ready.

** Baz **

It’s another busy morning. The students have been particularly restless over past few days since we’ve arrived back on campus. This of course breeds mischief, which in turn breeds a decisive containment effort from the teachers. Niall and Dev are reveling in it all, taking any chance to stoke the collective fire of the student body. But the teachers are being harsher than usual, determined to suppress us back to some level of normalcy. The Mage never did much to govern misconduct but the temporary absence of a headmaster is something you can feel. That, plus the upcoming promise of spring, has thrown everything into chaos. And the teachers are throwing additional classwork at us to try to quench the flames. By the time I’m through with second period, I already feel like I’m behind. I should really be spending my free period in the library but I push that thought out of my head and weave my way through the corridors to the Defensive Magic classroom where Simon should be finishing up.

The class is running long. The professor is still giving out notes about the homework so I lean back against the wall, propping one foot up on the stone and wait. A stream of students funnels past me, all whispering excitedly amongst themselves. I give my best charming smile and a small group of girls towards the back all blush and lean in towards one another to giggle. Simon’s the last one out the door. He’s red in the face and staring down at his shoes with his lip curled up. As he walks through the doorway he pulls at his hair with a tight fist, mumbling to himself.

“How was class?” I ask.

He startles as I speak and then looks back down at his feet. “Not the best, actually. I held up the entire lesson because one of my spells backfired and broke some ancient magic artifact or something. I’m not really sure.”

“You’re not sure what you broke?”

“Well I don’t know, it looked old. I just couldn’t control it. My magic doesn’t respond like it used to. I feel like I’m starting at square one.”

“Well you can’t be that much worse than you were before” I say with a laugh and lift his chin up to look at me. “It’ll be okay, Simon. If one person knows how dangerous you can be, it’s me. Have you seen what you did to the white chapel by the way?” Simon lets out a sort of half-laugh. “Now stop being glum. It’s much less fun for me to taunt you when you’re already sad.”

Simon scowls briefly and then laughs. “So what plot have you cooked up for me today?”

“Ah… it would take away from the brilliance if I were to tell you.” I put my hand on his lower back and spin him to face the opposite end of the hall. Despite the perfectly planned grace of the move, Simon stumbles on his feet as he turns.

“I just don’t understand these spells,” he mumbles, half to himself. “You’d think since I’m basically a Normal anyway, I’d understand their language but these advanced spells don’t make any sense. Why is _the proof is in the pudding_ not a food spell? Why in Merlin’s name would that be defensive?”

“It removes glamour enchantments,” I say. “The root of the phrase goes back to the 14th century. It means that you can only judge the quality of something once you’ve tried it yourself. It’s fairly unique in that you’re using the spell to do the “trying” thereby finding the object’s true quality, so it’s actually a manipulation on top of a nuance.” Simon’s eyes fall back to the floor. “But more importantly," I add hastily, "you’re not ‘basically a Normal,’ Simon. You’re a terrible mage, don’t get me wrong. But you’re a mage nonetheless. Now give me those books and put that class out of your mind. We have to get back to my plot, remember?” I give him a smirk and he almost smiles, but then fights it back. 

I reach out and try to grab the books out of his hand but he stubbornly turns away from me. I swear, he can be so pigheaded sometimes.

“Stop” he grumbles. “You don’t have to pity me.”

“Snow, I swear” I snap at him and make a lurch at the books. I’ve gotten my arm hooked around the stack and am pulling them towards me as I hear the sudden clip of a heel and a horrified “Basilton!” from a few yards ahead.

My heart drops.

I feel all the blood rush from my face as recognition washes over me. Simon's eyes are wide and blinking rapidly. I take a deep breath and smooth down the front of my uniform, pulling myself into composure. I lower my shoulders and lift my chin to meet the voice with pleasant deference. “Father. I didn’t know you would be on campus today. What a pleasant surprise.”

**Simon**

Baz’s father gives me a once over from the side of his eye like I’m a stray dog, not worth registering, and then turns his attention to Baz. The Pitches did let me remain in their manor for the remainder of Christmas break but I don’t think I saw his father more than twice. He kept a wide distance, clearly thinking that Baz had some grand plot he was enacting and not wanting to get in the way of it. It’s a good thing that rich people never do their own housekeeping or else he might have wondered why the bedsheets in the East guestroom never seemed to get used. 

You can actually feel the displeasure wafting from him as he watches Baz drop my books. “I don’t know what the Mage has been teaching here but we will have no fighting in school bounds.” He spits out the Mage’s name like it pains him to say it and pauses. “Especially not without a wand,” he hisses, directly at Baz. “This is Watford, not some Normal sporting match. If this is the instruction you’ve been receiving, Watford is in far worse state than I imagined.”

“Yes, father,” Baz replies.

“I was right to make a campus visit my first priority," Baz's father says. "I would have been here sooner but we wanted to ensure consensus between the Families before instating a new headmaster.”

“Are you,” Baz begins, hesitantly.

“Of course not. The families wanted the school back in Pitch hands... and I couldn’t agree more” He says, smiling at the woman behind him. I hadn’t originally noticed her. She has long black hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head, a square nose, and pretty amber eyes. She’s looking directly at me. “I first, of course, suggested Fiona as your mother’s sister. But considering her-” he clears his throat slightly “-_busy_ schedule in London, we all thought it would be most appropriate for Myriam to take the reins.”

“So lovely to see you Myriam,” Baz says with a smile. “You look well. I haven’t seen you since the christening.”

Myriam smiles politely at Baz. “Lovely to see you as well.”

“Now, come with me,” Baz's father says. Baz lifts his chin and begins to follow but his father stops him. “Not you, Basilton. The _Mages Heir_ is needed immediately." He turns to look at me. 


	9. Chapter 9

** Simon **

“Simon, please sit.” Myriam says in a sweet voice. She waves her hand towards a small wooden chair across from the Mage's desk.. her desk, I suppose. The setup of the room is nearly identical to the last time I was here. _Merlin_ the last time I was here. The last time I was here I was threatening Baz with a sword. Now look at me. I take a look around the room. The Mage never really settled into the office, he was so rarely in it anyway. So most of the decorations are left over from when Natasha Grimm-Pitch was Headmistress. All of Baz’s mothers’ things are still exactly as they were but the office has clearly been rummaged through. Some of the books have been pulled off the shelves and stacked in a pile by the door and it looks as though all the cabinets and drawers have been emptied and someone is halfway through the process of putting them back together.

Myriam gestures again to the chair. She settles into the much larger desk chair and gives a little sigh, never taking her eyes off of me. Baz’s father remains standing at her side. They both stare at me expectantly. I stare back, uncomfortably. Myriam has her hands folded in front of her. She’s giving me a pleasant and open smile as if she’s waiting for me to speak, as if _I’m_ the one who called _her_ here. “I um-” I start.

“Well you have certainly caused quite the commotion” she says abruptly with a little laugh. She smiles at me like we're sharing an inside joke.

“Yeah, I um-”

“We wanted to check in with you," she says, placing her manicured hand softly on top of mine. "It must be a difficult time for you with the loss of your mentor and, well, everything going on with your grades.”

“I wouldn’t really call him my mentor,” I say, losing track of the conversation already. I have absolutely no idea what they are getting at or why I have been called here.

“Oh?” Myriam says with a curious head tilt. She pulls her hand off of mine. “It says right here on your admissions papers that you are his ward. Surely he took some level of interest in your magickal education.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t know. I mean, he only made me his heir so I could come to Watford. We never really talked about it. It seemed like it was just a formality or something. And he never really asked me much about classes either. Honestly, we didn’t really talk. Not really this past year at least. I think he might have forgotten about the whole ‘heir’ thing. He didn’t take much interest in me except when the humdrum was attacking and-”

“Interesting,” Myriam says, cutting me off again.

She stares at me expectantly but I don’t know what she’s found interesting. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, eyes darting to Baz’s father. He has the same blank look on his face. “Umm-“ I start.

“You say he didn’t show any interest in you or your studies and yet the contents of this office prove very much otherwise.” She twirls her wrist to gesture to a tall stack of papers near her left hand. I have no idea what she is referring to. It’s true, I never thought much about what the Mage had planned for me in terms of school. He seemed far less interested in academics than pointing me in the direction of whatever next magickal creature he wanted me to blow up. I got fine grades though so it never seemed like something to talk about. I mean, sure, I wasn’t going to be winning any awards like Penny or Baz but I passed all my classes. It wasn’t like I was failing.

Myriam puts on a pair of reading glasses. They are thin and curved up at the ends with little diamonds pressed into the sides and along the bands. She picks up the top paper from the pile and holds it loosely in her hands, scanning it. She pauses and looks up at me over the top of her glasses. “Mr. Snow, I don’t know what game you and the Mage were playing but let me make myself very clear. Whatever plot you two were planning, it has failed. The Mage has _failed_.”

She clears her throat and lowers the paper so that she is looking directly into my eyes. The smile has dropped now and she is speaking to me like I expect someone would speak to a disobedient toddler. “I hear when you appealed to the Coven you claimed that you had no knowledge of his plans or his whereabouts. You will have heard by now that his body was discovered and he has been pronounced dead. You may have snuck past the Coven but don’t think for one moment that I believe you are ignorant in all of this. You were his heir, his confidant, and his protégée. You may feel that now you have some duty to carry out his vision. You may feel that this is a good idea for you. But you would be wrong. Let me once again be clear. If I get even the slightest whisper that you are attempting to carry out his horrible plans, whatever they may be, you will be out of Watford faster than the flick of a fairyfrog’s wings. Do you understand me?”

I'm not really sure what to say. I don’t know how to say that I don’t understand. I have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. I wrack my brain for something to explain to her that she’s got it all wrong but all that comes out of my mouth is a series a sputtering noises.

She lifts one eyebrow at me and sighs. “Mr. Snow, do you understand? I won’t tolerate your insolence or your nonsense. And furthermore, these ‘extra credit’ trips that you were using to boost your grades have come to and end.”

“Extra credit trips?” I say. I now officially have no idea what she is talking about.

“Yes, it seems the Mage not only managed to sneak you into Watford with his false adoption trick but he also has been keeping you in by boosting your grades with extra credit that strangely none of your professors seem to remember assigning.”

“I don’t remember any extra credit trips,” I say. More to myself than anyone in the room.

“You don’t?" She says. "See right here,” she turns the paper she had been holding to face me and slides it over the desk. “Oct. 17: Simon accompanied me on an academic mission to see the King of the Goblins in Essex. Demonstrates excellent elocution. +80. Nov. 9… and on and on.”

“Yes, well, I did go to Essex but it wasn’t like that.”

“Hmm, yes of course,” She starts, unconvinced. “Mr. Snow you are on thin ice here. From what I can see from your last term’s notes you are distracted in your classes, temperamental with your classmates, and remarkably ungifted in your spells. It seems the Mage was singlehandedly keeping you at a school where, I am sorry to say, you clearly do not belong. Now I apologize for being so blunt but I don’t want there to be any confusion as to the dire state of your academics."

She stands up before I can respond and walks to the door, holding it open and gesturing that I should leave. I stand up hesitantly, not sure where to even start on the growing list of questions I have. She smiles and gestures again that I should leave. As I walk through the open doorway, she leans towards me and whispers “Mr. Snow, if it were up to me, you would be appearing before the Coven this evening for treason, stripped of your magic, and excommunicated for your and the Mage’s crimes against all of magickal kind. Unfortunately, there are laws against students being tried for these types of things…. But of course, if you were to, say fail out of Watford, then the story would be much different.” She steps back and holds the door wider. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Snow,” she announces and swings the door closed behind me. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Baz**

Simon looks like he’s seen a ghost. I haven’t talked to him since second period. Even in the classes we share, he sat in the back and walked out immediately after the class was over. I don’t even think he spoke with Penny. She was worried sick. I'm honestly surprised she's not here right now, waiting for him to get back. He stumbles into the room, trips over his shoes as he tries to take them off, and then throws himself directly into our bed. “Simon, what’s wrong? What did he say to you?”

“Hmm?” He says distractedly, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “He?”

“My Father. What did he say to you?”

“Oh, not much.” He looks like he’s a million years away. Like someone took his consciousness and threw it out into the stars. His face is blank and pale.

“Not much? Simon you look like hell. What happened? Did Myriam do something?”

“Oh, not much,” he says again. “Only told me that my life is over and I am going to be tried for crimes against humanity or something.”

“Tried for what?”

“I don’t know. Conspiring with the Mage maybe.”

“But you didn’t conspire with the Mage! You did the exact opposite of conspire with the Mage!”

“Yeah, well..”

“Simon, take a breath. What exactly did they say to you?”

“That I was part of an evil plot to destroy magic.”

“Okay, well, you weren’t,” I say. “Simon, magickal trials don’t work like that. It’s not ‘guilty until proven innocent’. If we need proof we can find it. And anyway no one would dare charge a student for something like that."

“Yeah, well I’m not a student.”

“What do you mean you’re not a student?”

“The Mage has been inflating my grades. It’s the only reason I’ve been passing.”

“Oh,” I say. I hate to admit it but it does make a little bit of sense. Simon may be alright in classes like Runes and History of Magic but I always wondered how he never seemed to be worried about, say, elocution. We did an entire term on nuance and he received pretty decent marks. Simon. In _nuance_.

“Yeah, so now I’m basically flunking out of school.”

“But you're still a student, Simon. And grades for your previous terms are already set. They were signed by the Headmaster.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles.

“So then you just have to pass this term?”

“Uh-hun” he nods his head up and down, still laying back on the bed so his hair gets rumpled in the sheets.

“Simon!” I shove him. “You scared me! You were acting like this was a problem we couldn’t fix,” I laugh. “It just so happens I know an incredibly talented, and dare I say handsome, magician who has a certain vested interest in keeping you right here.” I pat the space next to me and pull him into my lap, stroking the hair away from his face. "Classes start tomorrow." I kiss the top of his head and wrap my arms around him, burying my head in his hair until he eventually falls asleep, still in his uniform. 


End file.
